


Ryokira Writing Prompt Collection

by IrisClou



Series: welcome to ryokira hell [4]
Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Excessive Drinking, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, but ill put generic shit in, its a big mixed bag! you dont know what you get till you click
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 22:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13580238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisClou/pseuds/IrisClou
Summary: I got a bunch of writing prompts from ppl on tumblr, and decided to post them in order here since everyone liked them so much!The premise is having a quote that's incorporated into the fic in some way.





	1. #63: Fleas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writing prompt: “Flea markets don’t carry fleas"

“Flea markets don’t carry fleas, y’know.” Akira mused, taking the bowl Ryo handed him to dry. “I always wondered why.”

His friend paused mid-scrub, closing his eyes. Sidebangs pulled back in a pair of Miki’s barrettes, flower print apron pulled over his usual sweater and slacks, and elbow length rubber gloves made the boy look absolutely ridiculous – and equally intimidating.

“Sometimes I worry Amon took half your brain when you two fused.” He took a deep breath, before preforming an olympic level eyeroll and shrug, “But maybe if we PUNCH the demons hard enough, we’ll win the war anyway!” He scoffed quietly, “Christ.”

“If it ain’t broke, then don’t fix it.” Akira put away the bowl, reaching for a glass to dry. “And Miki brought it up one day. I can’t take credit for that kind of—”

“Stupidity?” Ryo offered with a nasty sneer, dishes forgotten. He was always up for a bit of a Miki-roast, as much as he knew it was absolutely below him.

“Well, I…I wasn’t going to be _that_ mean…” Akira frowned, looking longingly at a soapy pot. He really wanted to finish dishes so he could go cuddle Ryo in the guest bedroom, but at this rate…it may be a while.

“I have found few things of worth come from girls her age. There’s a reason I chose you over her.” Ryo spoke casually, and returned to his dishwashing post. “I admit, however, her cooking is vastly beyond your or my abilities.”

Akira stared at his friend, face contorted in a mess of conflicted emotions, before lightening.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m worried if we ever strike off on our own—”

“Ah, I suppose _that’s_ what they’re calling marriage these days.” Ryo interjected playfully, handing the boy the pan he had been lusting over impatiently.  
His blue eyes shimmered in the kitchen light, dark lashes catching the starshine glow like raven feathers. The damn look that always stopped Akira in his tracks.  
  
“R-Ryo!” He whispered hotly, glancing around furtively, in case Miki’s father was nearby. “…Guys…guys can’t get married to each other!” His ears were already burning at the idea.

“Says the man who wonders why you can’t buy fleas at flea markets. Which you can, if you know which vendor to look for.” He set down a plate and took the barrettes from his hair, and slipped off his rubber gloves. “The exact same goes for men getting married.”

“R-Ryo…c-c’mon, don’t talk about that s-stuff here…” Akira drew in closer, hands shaking as he kept up his vigilance for Miki’s parents.

“Don’t be so childish. Demons are roaming the streets and here you are worrying if someone sees you kiss another boy.” Ryo churred, and as much the truth stung, it was gentle—just as his hands were, curling around his friend’s trembling ones. “Priorities, Akira.”

The boy made the mistake of looking down into blue moon eyes, a silver flame that the moth was ever-drawn to.

“Ryo…we…shouldn’t, we really—”

“You’ve said enough idiotic things tonight, and I won’t let you say another, Akira.” His friend smirked, tilting his head as he tugged the boy’s hands back, causing him to stumble forward. In an effort to catch himself, Akira braced himself against the wall, staring down wide eyed at Ryo, a fox’s grin curling the corner of the blonde’s mouth. “Let’s put these lips to better use now, shall we?”

Akira’s whole body bristled as slender fingers brought his face down, hair fluffing at the simple touch of Ryo’s lips to his own. He was terrible at kissing, but his friend was kind enough to patiently show him kiss by kiss how it was properly done.

When breath was lost and the body begged for relief, they broke away, Akira’s nose to Ryo’s neck as he panted, heart pounding like hell against his ribs, eyes wide. The shock of kissing his friend so out in the open – and like THAT, too – had left his nerves scorched.

“No more looking for fleas in flea markets, Akira. You have what you want in front of you, you fool.” Ryo reminded him in a smarmy purr, to which the boy groaned.

It _was_ foolish to look somewhere for something that had always been with you, wasn’t it? Akira was left brooding to come up with something clever in response, but found nothing.

They finished dishes in silence, Akira’s calloused hand clinging desperately to Ryo’s soft one for reassurance. He wanted this, but fear held him back – and yet, he needed his friend to know that he wouldn’t back down. That the old Akira was still there, still determined to believe in what was right and true—but his heart was also just as fragile and shy.

Ryo squeezed his hand in his, fingers perfectly lacing into one another. He knew. That’s why they kept this hidden behind the kitchen counter. But even if the world couldn’t see it – he could. That’s what mattered most.

  
People usually were blind to fleas at the market, anyway.


	2. #24: Vodka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writing Prompt: "It's 6 o'clock in the morning. You are NOT having vodka."

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, Ryo. You are NOT having vodka.” Akira hissed, eyes still sticky-shut from lack of proper sleep. He rubbed furiously at his frozen nose as he squinted at his friend, who was pouring himself a cup - easy as you please, of course - from a canteen he’d brought, always kept at his hip opposite his shotgun.

“They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Akira.” Ryo rasped, downing the entire cup like it had been a shot glass. He cringed violently, keeling over, before gasping.

He was awake now.

The pair sat out on the second floor ruins of an office building, the winter chill chewing like rats on their bones. Ryo had caught wind of a particular demon stalking about and kidnapping young girls for food, so they made their way to the place before the sun even rose.

“Damn.” The blonde hissed, shuddering. “My father didn’t fuck around with this shit.” 170-proof could raise the dead, as far as Ryo was concerned. He stifled choppy laughter, before facing a shivering Akira.

“Take my coat, idiot. I’m warm now.”

His friend didn’t hesitate to snatch the trenchcoat from his hands, and swiftly wrapped himself up in it. He had already begun to change into Devilman just to protect himself from the cold. But he had to hold back from letting too much demon fur coat his belly, lest their target sense him before they found it.

“Old Akira would have called the police for underage drinking,” He chattered under his foggy breath, bunching up, “But Devilman says ‘hand it over, bitch.”

Ryo smirked, and poured a second glass, passing it to the now clawed hand.

“That’s why I like Devilman.”


	3. #70: Out To Get You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writing Prompt: “Not everyone is out to get you. Stop thinking that. It’s annoying.”

**[[BGM]](https://youtu.be/mS8A1Gbq2CQ) **

“Not everyone is out to get you. Stop thinking that. It’s annoying.” It was low, low hiss, whispered between two sharp fangs.

Ryo started, taking a step back as his fingers curled defensively around his shotgun. Dog-white eyes pierced through him, a striking contrast to coal red blood that dripped down rigid cheekbones.

Devilman turned away, tucking his wings in loosely.

“Humans are capable of demonic behavior. You don’t have to have half a brain to know that.” He rasped, staring out over the carnage he had caused, demon flesh smoking and bubbling among the wrecked street. “But if you can’t even trust _me…_ then you’re on your own.”

Red eyes slid over to sneer at the trembling boy behind him. He cracked a fanged grin, tail switching as he crossed burly arms.

“And you can’t do this without me, Ryo.”

His partner shivered with fury, and spat.

“And you would be NOTHING without me Fudo Akira.” He snapped, cocking the gun reflexively.

This reaction interested Devilman.  
He turned, brow raised.

The acrid stench of boiling demon flesh stung Ryo’s eyes, the smoke filling his chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Humanity has always been flawed in creating monsters stronger than they can control.” The beast bristled slowly, eyes widening with a deep-rooted pleasure at the horror in his partner’s eyes as he recoiled. “They come to fear what they have wrought, and destroy it without thought.”

Ryo’s knees shook, but still, he raised the barrel of the gun. Ice blue eyes reflected a mirror of hellfire that lapped at their feet.

“Self-preserving your species, no matter the cost. Adapting to fight back at all of nature even if it tears your pathetic grasp at ‘morality’ to shreds…”

Ryo’s scream caught in his throat as the clawed hand shot out, talons curling sharply against the beautiful lily-white skin of his throat. Slowly, they twisted upwards, holding his jaw firmly.

“Sounds a lot like _demons_ …doesn’t it?”  
The wings unfurled in a rush of flesh and muscle, a black sail stretched high over the brutal flames.

“A-Akira…” Ryo’s entire being trembled with terror. Rage.

“You better learn quick, human. I told you once the lives you save are just as much responsibility as those you take.” Devilman’s face drew nearer, his muzzle wrinkling as he bared his teeth. “And I won’t say it again. Trust _me_.”

Ryo swallowed dryly, the tears running freely down his cheeks, jaw taut. It all hurt so damn much. The smoke, the heat, the claws that pierced his flesh, but none of it hurt more than the quiet knowledge that _this_ was Akira.

That this absolute monster, that would rend the earth itself in two if he so pleased, that carved craters into the city block on a whim, the sky itself ripped asunder and bloody in his wake – was Akira.  
_His_ Akira.

The same boy he shared his bed with, shared tender words with in the dawn hours, shared desperate embraces and shed tears over all they had lost in this mortal life, only to gain one another.

And to know he was _right_.

It settled in his stomach like living tar, thick and bitter, coating his ribs and suffocating him.

  
“Trust me, Ryo. Trust what you have made of me.” Devilman drew even closer, his breath scalding on the boy’s lips. Fangs brushed the pale skin, and Ryo wept, the gun dropping to the ground with a heavy clatter, arms flung up to welcome the beast’s embrace.

“Don’t be scared of them all…we’re only human, Ryo.” Devilman rumbled, leathery wings shielding the boy from the smoking wreckage around them. He stood for a few minutes just holding the boy, lips to his neck. “You gave that rabbit a second chance, so I shall give you yours.”

Ryo felt consciousness drain from him, his head light and breath short. He barely noticed when he was jolted in the demon’s arms as Devilman took flight.

“…Akira…I trust… _you_ …”


	4. #28: Drunk Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writing Prompt: "How drunk was I?"

“How drunk was I?” Akira lifted his head from the pile of newspapers he had drooled all over, his eye catching a wastebasket smelling of sick propped up against the couch he lay on.

“Enough.” Ryo puffed, holding up a pair of Miki’s panties between two expensive-looking chopsticks. “For this, at least.”

As much as Akira’s body wanted to visibly react, he simply could not muster the strength, demon or otherwise, to do more than groan.

“Oh, God.”

“God was not involved in this endeavor, I can assure you.” Ryo grinned, a pipe wedged under his rather sharp canine, and he leaned back in the leather recliner. There was a acrid smell, something akin to a polecat…was it the smoke?

Akira double took, now very aware that his friend was wearing nothing but HIS boxers, and an extraordinarily expensive looking fur coat. A string of pearls adorned his sharp collarbone, catching the early dawn light.

Once more, only a groan drooled from his lips, and he closed his eyes, trying to think if there was a number past ten that he could count to, to make this all go away.

“…Do I want…to know?” He gurgled, trying to form words around all the saliva that had decided to pool in his mouth without permission. He turned his head to spit weakly in the trash can.

“I told you my father didn’t fuck around with alcohol, but a certain Devilman didn’t believe me.” Ryo said plainly, blowing a fine smoke ring to dissipate in the morning dust.

Akira’s eyes slid down to look at himself, just in case he had lost the rest of his body in last night’s events. He really was only aware of the deafening throbbing in his head.

At the sight of his nakedness, he flung an arm out to try and cover his dick, only to find that he wasn’t as naked as he had thought.

“Before you ask, yes, those are mine.” Ryo smirked as Akira’s eyes peeled open at the feel of a silk thong stretched much too tight under his fingers.

“Christ…!” He gasped, throwing his head back.

“He wasn’t involved, either.” Ryo’s face narrowed into a fox’s sneer. “Just us, Akira.”

“I gotta…piss…so bad…” He wheezed, begging to every higher power that he could somehow be returned his muscle control.

He heard his friend get up, and something cold and hard was slipped between his fingers.

“Use this.”

Warily, Akira cracked open an eye.

A champagne glass?!

“No! Just help me to the fuckin’ bathroom, you freak!” Akira squawked, dropping the glass to the carpet.

Ryo tossed his head with raucous, crowing laughter.

“You thought it was sexy eight hours ago, Akira.”

“Where’s your gun, you fuck?” The boy hiccupped, then gagged as he tasted bitter bile on the back of his tongue.

“Aw, you can’t take the easy way out for this one, not when you owe me six million dollars and the crown jewels.” Ryo teased, but stood up, furs cascading down his slender frame like an ermine waterfall. He set the pipe down in its holder on the coffee table, and padded over to his friend.

“Get up, you bastard. The fun’s over, and the Makimuras will be back in two hours.” His voice had lost all its gentile air in exchange for a raspy snarl as he stabbed the chopsticks into Akira’s side, pinching him.

Akira stared at him, giving up and surrendering a toothy grin, before his eyes opened wide with horror. He hastily turned his head, vomiting into the wastebasket beside him.

“Once a lightweight, always a lightweight.” Ryo cooed, pulling a silk handkerchief from his coat pocket, and squatting down to wipe the sick from the corner’s of the boy’s mouth.

“Now, get up and piss, and I’ll get the bloodstains out of the carpet, idiot.” Velvet lips pressed to Akira’s cracked ones, and he lay there, stunned.

How drunk was 'drunk enough?' Was there a ‘more than enough?’ He figured he’d be dead before he ever found out, if this is what it was like drinking with Ryo.


	5. #13: Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writing Prompt: "I lost our baby."

“I lost our baby.” Ryo tossed his briefcase down on the wrought iron tabletop in front of Akira, a deadpan look on his face.

His friend yelped in surprise, scrambling to stuff a not-so-safe-for-school magazine back into his bag, scanning the courtyard in a mild panic in case someone saw.

“Y-you WHAT?” He squawked, watching as Ryo took a seat facing away from him– on the table itself and not the bench-- pulling a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. “Our WHAT?!”

“Our baby. I left it somewhere, fuck knows, honestly.” He patted the case against his palm before sliding one out, lighter already at the ready. “Maybe in chemistry.” He mumbled, cigarette wedged between his teeth.

“Miki’s…gonna kill us…” Akira groaned, deflating like a balloon.

“Eh, as long as we find it, we’ll be good, right? Least I didn’t burn a hole in the fucker.” The blonde shrugged, taking a drag and folding his arms over his knees.

“She’ll kill you first for smoking near it, let alone LOSING it.” Akira stood up, the smell of smoke making his nose twitch.

“Who’s gonna tell the bitch she’s the reason I smoke in the first place?” Ryo let out a crow of laughter, only to spit the cigarette out in a pained cough as Akira’s fist connected with his back.

“Don’t be so rude, jackass.” He growled, pushing his friend over so he could sit next to him and brood about their imminent demise.

“Fine…fine, but why can’t we just buy another one? She’ll never be able to tell the difference.” Ryo couldn’t help but smile as he felt Akira’s arm slip around his waist, hidden by his trench coat.

“No, they’ve got a way of distinguishing them from store bought ones, I think.” The dark haired boy sighed. “I’m gonna fail this damn class because of you, Ryo.” He sighed, shoulders hunched.

“If you can keep Miki distracted for all of ten minutes, I’ll find the damn baby, got it?” His friend murmured, sneaking a quick kiss to the boy’s ear. He drew away with a sly smile as he saw it turn bright red.

“Alright, but…”

“Trust me, Akira. I’ve got this.”

–

“You didn’t have to pull the fuckin’ FIRE ALARM, you bastard!” Akira barked, clutching a panicking Miki in his arms as Ryo came running down the sidewalk, something bulky cradled under his arm, half obscured by the coat.

“Got everyone out so I could look for it in peace.” He grinned, and jogged to a stop before them. “Here Akira, your—” Ryo’s fingers slipped, and the bag of flour fell to the ground, bursting into a white cloud of smoke on the pavement, “–baby…”

He stared down dumbly at it.

Well, they ALL did.

Ryo took a step back, but it was already too late—Miki’s hand shot out, grabbing him by the shirt collar and yanking him in close, her knee lodging itself brutally between his thighs.

“Now you’ll have to get me a NEW baby, you JERK!” She yowled, watching Ryo’s twisted grin contort into a mix of pain and satisfaction at the girl’s reaction.

Parenthood was never meant for teenagers like them, anyway.


	6. #15: Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writing Prompt: "I'd kill for a coffee. Literally."

“I’d kill for a coffee.” Ryo grumbled through gritted teeth, “Literally.”

Akira shifted beneath him, his furry demon “trousers” getting to be a bit toastier than he wanted. He kicked his digitigrade legs, tossing off the comforter.

“…I’m the one who does the killing around here. You can just buy one like the next guy.” He snuffled his friend’s neck, kissing it.

Ryo frumped loudly, and rolled over, unhappy that the blankets covering his naked body were now strewn across the floor. At least his boyfriend was a living furnace with permanent fluffy pajama bottoms.

He returned the kiss, relaxing a bit as Akira’s fingers combed through his silky hair. There was something wonderfully soothing in the unique heartbeat of the boy in this intermediate form. More thrumming than throbbing.

“Still would kill for it though.” He murmured.  
  
“Tell you what.” Akira rumbled, peeking one eye over the satin landscape of Ryo’s back, “The next demon I see holding a cup of coffee in his hands, I’ll kill for you. Sound good?” He grinned, reaching down to dig his nails into the ass he had been pounding into just an hour before.

Waking up before dawn wasn’t such a bad thing anymore – not when you had someone to share the morning’s first sunbeams with.

Ryo stiffened at the touch, eyes opening.   
“Marvelous, but hands off the merchandise, Akira.” He hissed, “I stand by my words ‘you break it, you buy it.”

The half demon snorted loudly, arms sliding back up to give the boy a bear hug, squeezing him tight. Ryo let out a noise not unlike a dog toy as he felt his back pop from the force.

“Alright, alright…but I’ve got something way hotter than coffee if you’re looking for a drink.” Akira sneered, proudly showing off his elongated canines. This was immediately followed by a not so subtle hip thrust. “It’ll wake you up in no time, Ryo.”

His friend glowered at him, hooded eyes watering from exhaustion and having been caught in the vice that was the half demon’s signature hug.

“Unless you can make that shit with expresso shots and cinnamon, I’m thoroughly not interested.” Ryo scoffed, and sat up on the boy’s hips, rubbing the side of his jaw and wincing a bit. “Besides, I’ve seen what Devilman is packing, and my throat already hurts thinking about it.”

Akira howled with laughter, to which his friend gave him a lazy smile.

“But seriously though. Get me some fuckin’ coffee, you idiot.” He playfully pushed the boy down into the sheets, bouncing a bit, “Or I’ll show up ten hours late to the next demon-induced apocalypse with some Starbucks.”

“How about some coffee to _die_ for?” Akira’s face drew up into one big, wolfish grin.

“I’ll pour it on your _dick_ if you keep this up, Akira.”

His friend bubbled with rumbly laughter, before relenting, scooting out from under him and standing up, tail curled neatly around his waist.

“Alright, alright.” He yawned, brushing out his fur. “But you’re making breakfast.”

“Deal.” But Ryo was already buried under the sheets in a tight ball.

Fuck this shit. Until he had a mug of expresso in his hands, he wasn’t going to budge a damn inch. Lack of coffee induced homicide was not beneath him in the mornings.


	7. #17: Opinion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Writing Prompt: “Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion, then.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion, then.” Akira gasped, before his head went underwater again, but he’d be damned if he didn’t get the last word, and managed to surface for a second longer, “Because I’m sure, absolutely positive, in fact—that I’m the most graceful thing in this pool right now.” His head fell back as he went down for a fifth time, quite literally the physical manifestation of the word “floundering.”

His catlike dignity was not to be tarnished, however, even if it took drowning to prove it, so Akira did the next best thing, and pulled him back up to the surface by the front of his swim trunks.

“Someone ready for the kiddie pool?” He hissed, treading water and holding his boyfriend up like it was nothing. “Looks _way_ more fun than hanging out with us big kids.” The tanned boy smirked playfully, the summer sun catching his dark hair and turning it charcoal brown in the light.

“Put me back under water so I can drown with my pride, you bastard.” Ryo spluttered, the harsh sunlight making his eyes water. Or was it the chlorine? All of these sensations rubbed him the wrong way.

“Nah, I gotta teach you to swim somehow, Ryo.” The boy grinned, tugging his friend closer and picking him up under the arms like you would a rabbit. “Just hold on to my shoulders again, and bicycle kick your legs. Don’t try running like hell, the water won’t eat you–!” He howled with laughter at the upturned nose and ugly scowl.

Ryo finally gave in, but only on the terms they found a discreet corner to practice in.

Face flushed (and not from sunburn), the boy gripped his friend’s shoulders, trying to tread in time with him, occasionally slamming his knee into the boy’s shin on accident. Akira winced, but didn’t say anything.

“Hey…there you go…” The dark haired boy slowly pulled his hands away from his friend’s curved hips, “You’re doing it now…” He smiled, and began to tease at the little fingers that dug like cat claws into his broad shoulders, “Now let go…”

“A-ah…Akira, I can’t!” Ryo whispered hotly, his body tensing at the idea of not having his friend within arm’s reach, cold panic shooting like liquid ice through his veins.

“You have to, Ryo.” Akira frowned, and wrapped his calloused hands around slender wrists, tugging them away and releasing them.

With a sobbing cry, Ryo flung his arms out, desperate to gain purchase in this watery hell. But his heel hit Akira’s thigh, and he fell back, flailing wildly. Cold water rushed past his head, and he stared up through burning eyes as bubbled streamed to the surface, leaving him to sink deeper into the abyss. In his panic, he inhaled sharply, lungs filling with sour water.

In seconds, he felt himself being torn from a prematurely watery grave, the weight of it almost painful as he was brought towards the stain glass sunlight above him.

Cement scraped his lilywhite skin as he was hauled up out of the pool, everything slippery and hot and bruising.

What was that godawful sound? Was that…was that _him?_ He cringed as he realized it _was_. He was bawling and coughing and gagging like a child.

Something warm held him close, rubbing his back furiously as he hiccuped, water coming out his nose onto its bronze shoulder. He cried harder at the sensation, his brain somehow unable to process any of this situation, and choosing sobbing like a four year old to be the only fucking solution. Incredible.

“Ryo! Ryo, God, I’m so sorry, you weren’t ready, I shouldn’t have—”

Oh. It was that bastard, Fudo. Figured.

Ryo pushed away from the boy, pretending it didn’t take two tries from muscle weakness, and landed a loud slap to the side of his face.

“I…didn’t…ask…” He wheezed, “For your…opinion!” Tears flooded his baby blue eyes, “I told you, I wasn’t ready…!”

Akira nodded in stunned silence, before grabbing his friend and holding him tight, hand to the back of his head to secure him.

“I’ll listen next time, I promise, Ryo…” His voice shook, and salty tears dripped onto sloping shoulders.

“Shut up, idiot. I’m fine.” The boy gurgled, struggling to hug back. “But let’s just take a break and get lunch…alright?”

Akira nodded into his neck, his ribs still shivering with tiny sobs.

What a crybaby.   
Ryo smiled, but it quickly turned into a sour scowl as he noticed others gathering around them with concern.

“C’mon, Akira.” He murmured gently, “I don’t leave you, and you don’t leave me, okay?” He let out a hoarse churr, “Now, let’s go, because I can’t kiss you in front of all these damn people and say I’m practicing my CPR skills. You’re still very conscious.”

The quiet joke made his friend laugh, which was all he wanted to begin with.

“Okay.” He mumbled, jaw still aching, “We…can try again tomorrow…”

“The only opinion I want is what you want to eat. Stop moping, it’ll take more than water to kill me.” Ryo sneered, sneaking in a subtle kiss to the boy’s neck.

Akira took a deep breath, and nodded.

Letting go was not nearly as simple as it sounded. And he certainly had not been prepared to watch it happen – especially not by his own hands.


End file.
